


I hate naming things: Rhys is drunk and horny

by paxmypenguina



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Choking, Holo Jack - Freeform, M/M, Piss, Smut, promt: ai mind fuckery/dirty Pandora holo sex, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxmypenguina/pseuds/paxmypenguina
Summary: After a stressful first week on Pandora, Rhys finally gets a night to himself at a dodgy hotel in hollow point.





	I hate naming things: Rhys is drunk and horny

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written smut in years and I'm super nervous to post this, but here you go
> 
> Also if I get horny and motivated later, I might add a few chapters onto this as I have lots of filthy ideas floating around in my head

It had been a long week of trying not to get murdered, eaten or... worse. The room they'd rented was small, dark and covered in grime – but hey, better than nothing, right? He let out a sigh as he laid on his back, metal arm tucked behind his head, human one rested at his side. His entire body ached, battered from a few days of life on Pandora. The reality had begun to creep in, nestling like a weight in his gut.

Sleep fled from him. He tried to drift off into the comforts of being unconscious, but found his mind wide awake as he lost himself in thought. How could he have been so damn naïve about coming to this planet? Half his head filled with anxiety, but the other basked in how damn badass he was for surviving in such a hellscape. Sure, he panicked and flailed his limbs a lot... and made stupid noises when he got scared; but how many Hyperion employees could say they'd endured worse than this?

He laid awake, mind buzzing with activity as he tried to sleep. He rolled over, then tucked a hand underneath his pillow. Something cold and hard made contact with his fingers, making him frown. He pulled the object out to discover half a bottle of whiskey. He let out a small huff of amusement, before unscrewing the cap and taking a whiff. It smelt like petrol mixed with paint thinner, and he knew it would taste even worse. Yet, the allure of drinking himself into a state of delirium pushed him on to take a sip. He scrunched his face up as the liquid burned its way down into his stomach, settling like a hot weight inside his guts. Gross.

Truth is, Rhys couldn't stop thinking about Jack. He knew that the ghost lodged deep in his brain wasn't really the CEO of Hyperion – just a copy, but that didn't stop Rhys from being utterly terrified of him. Something about that terror – and Rhys didn't want to admit this to himself – filled him with a fire. He'd never felt more alive until coming to this planet and shoving Jack inside his head. Sure, part of him wanted nothing more than to be back on Helios, living his boring life as a middle manager; a corporate slave. Yet to have Jack, Handsome Jack – his hero, whispering dark thoughts in his ear; well, Rhys had no idea how to feel about the ordeal.

He found comfort in the silence within the room. Alone, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, Rhys let out a deep sigh before taking several deep swings. It'd been a while since he'd last drank, and the effects started to show pretty quick, the alcohol going straight to his head as it burned in his stomach. What did he usually do when he couldn't sleep? Play video games until a regretful hour, or jerk off. It dawned on him that he hadn't gotten off in _weeks_.

A little smirk teased at his lips as he made quick work of his belt, before massaging his half-hard cock through his boxers. A breathy noise escaped his lips from the contact, and _fuck_, he realised what he needed. He pulled his underwear down, then spat in his hand – a mediocre substitute for lube – then began stroking himself, breath held in.

About a year ago, Rhys stumbled into a bad habit. It all started after he'd broken up with a girl from accounting, leaving him to take care of himself every night before passing out. It had been an accident the first time. He was touching himself, hot and messy in his room, eyes shut. He was close when opened them – saw the poster of Jack on his wall and then, _fuck_ – he came. Harder than he'd ever climaxed over a girl. He'd even whimpered Jack's name as the waves of pleasure pulsed through him, before he grew red with embarrassment and hid his face deep in his pillow. And thus, every night after that – Jack plagued his mind, lewd thoughts racing through his head every time he touched himself.

Of course, things were different now – but the habit remained. As he grew harder in his hand, little noises escaping his mouth – Jack was on his thoughts. The things Rhys imagined him saying were filthy, more in character now that he'd met the man himself. He tugged at his dick, working up a desperate rhythm as he pined for the release an orgasm would give him. “Holy fuck,” he whispered to himself, breath hot. His eyes were still closed, a picture of Jack pinning him down with a malicious smirk vivid in his mind.

When he felt himself getting closer, he sat up slightly, squirming in the bed. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, then caught the flicker of blue across the room.

That same smirk he'd imagined just moments ago was laid across Jack's features, eyes half lidded as he watched Rhys, who blushed. “Keep going,” he ordered, but Rhys was too far gone anyway, his breath hitching in his throat, cock throbbing in his hand. “Don't stop for me, pumpkin – you're an absolute sight right now.”

All Rhys could muster was a pathetic whine. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to almost draw blood. Jack let out a content hum, tilting his head as he stared at Rhys with hungry eyes. Something about being watched sent sparks of electricity through his body, straight down to his length – and he couldn't stop himself from spilling over, hot, quiet, breathy moans fluttering away from his lips. He slowed his hand, drawing out his orgasm as his eyes locked with Jack's. His dick twitched, come splattering onto his shirt.

Jack clapped slowly, with one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smug smirk. “Wow, Rhysie. You didn't even hesitate. You _loved_ that, didn't you? I could tell you were a filthy little whore from the moment I first tried to wring that pretty little neck of yours,” Jack's voice was a low purr that resonated within Rhys, leaving him squirming, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. The alcohol curbed his shame, leaving him to lay on the bed, panting as his mind raced, body tingling with a post orgasm buzz. “I wanna see more,” Jack continued, moving closer. A moment later, he was towering over Rhys in an intimidating fashion. “Can ya do that for me, kitten?”

Rhys gulped, eyes widening a little. The room had begun to spin about ten minutes ago, his head hazy and unclear. Unsure of where the situation could go, he rolled over onto his front, then lifted himself onto his hands and knees. Clumsily - in a drunken stupor - he tugged his jeans down, leaving his ass bare, still hard cock hanging between his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “Fuck,” to himself, fists balling as Jack's eyes racked over his body.

“Good boy,” he then said, words soft.

The praise made Rhys whimper, his heart racing inside his chest. He'd expected Jack to insult or demean him, but this? He hadn't expected, and Rhys _needed_ to hear more. His instincts told him to arch his back, putting himself on display.

“So eager,” Jack half growled, half purred into his ear. “What I'd do to you, Rhys – I would make you feel things you didn't think were possible.” The words drew another small whimper from Rhys, who felt as if he'd almost slipped into another state of being. “I have an idea,” Jack's tone lit up with something that stirred both horror and lust within Rhys.

All of a sudden, he couldn't feel his metal arm. Well, he could – but it was no longer in his control. Part of his head told him to fight back, but something else subsided over him as he gave in, feeling his hand raise up to his neck, metal fingers curling around his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jack peering down at him, hand wrapped around his own throat. He squeezed, making Rhys wince, eyes flickering as his head became deprived of blood and oxygen. His cock pulsed when Jack tightened the grip, drool leaking out of his mouth onto the pillow.

Jack lifted his other hand to ghost over Rhys' ass, but of course the younger of the two couldn't feel this. The hologram moved onto the bed, then positioned himself behind Rhys, hand on his throat squeezing harder. “I want -” Rhys spurted out, before letting out a low moan.

“What's that, kitten? Speak up,” Jack asked.

Rhys' head swam with painful bliss as he choked, managing to draw in a small breath. “I – I want you,” he rushed out, half of him regretting the words as they came out of his mouth, but he continued, lust taking over. “Want you inside me, p-please... fuck-”

“Oh, Rhysie. In too much of a state to remember that I can't do that, huh?” Jack said, leaning down, right through Rhys. The younger of the two could almost feel Jack's breath on his neck. “Beg,” he growled.

Rhys didn't hesitate to let the words and noises fall from his lips. “Please fuck me, Jack, p-please - I need it.”

The grip on his throat loosened, and then Rhys' arm reached behind, cold metal digits grazing against his bare ass. His breath hitched in his throat again as he felt his own fingers teasing at his entrance with no control. “You're gonna fuck yourself for me, 'kay, pumpkin? Really put a show on for daddy,” Jack's voice was coated with lust. Rhys felt a finger push inside of him, drawing out a few little sounds from his mouth. It pushed in deeper, then curled up and hit his prostate. He let out a long, drawn out moan that he couldn't keep inside, pleasure surging through his body. “Does that feel good?” Jack asked him.

Rhys didn't dare speak, opting for nodding his head in an enthusiastic manner instead. Each time Jack had him hit that sweet spot in his ass, Rhys let out a breathy noise and grinded his hips down into the contact. This went on for a few minutes, before Rhys felt an urge grow inside him. _Fuck_. He tapped his hand on the bed. “Wa – wait, I need to -”

“Hmm, what's wrong? Too much for you, Rhysie?”

Rhys blushed. “No, I uh – I really need to, uh... pee,” he admitted. The alcohol had gone right through him and into his bladder, which felt more sensitive with each thrust of his fingers.

Jack grinned, biting his lip. “Oh really? I'm sure you can wait,” he told him, voice low.

Rhys whimpered.

Jack continued, “Is it that bad, kitten? Really need to go? It'd be sooo embarrassing if you made a mess of these sheets, huh?” his tone was dusted with mockery, which hit Rhys right in his core. He felt his fingers pull out of his entrance, hand moving around to his front to push down on the lower part of his stomach. “Ah!” he yelped out, eyes widening. Jack then used his hand to massage down onto his bladder, sending hot little waves down to his crotch. “Fuuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back. Rhys felt – well, he couldn't describe how he felt at all. A mess; disgusting, hot, desperate – his mind was tangled with lewd thoughts and humiliation.

“Mmph,” Jack hummed. “Ya know, I'd love to piss all over you, Rhys. Right in that that hot little mouth of yours. Have you slurp it all up like a good little whore, but before that – you'd be _begging_ me for it.”

Rhys bit down on his lip in response to the statement. He squirmed like a virgin, face stuffed into the pillow. He felt glad that Jack couldn't see the pink dusted over his cheeks; the drool pooling around his mouth - but he was sure that Jack could see him writhe, toes curling up.

“Really, I don't know if I can't hold it,” Rhys breathed out, voice breaking. “It's, ah! S-Sensitive.”

Jack laughed, taking delight in Rhys' discomfort. “God, look at the fucking state of you, kitten,” he purred, before pausing to listen to Rhys' whimpers as he pushed his thumb down. “Mmm, such slutty little noises. Bet you've gotten off over this before. So _dirty_, Rhysie.”

As Jack spoke, Rhys realised that he'd began touching himself again in quick, jerky movements. He wiggled, unable to keep his limbs still as he fought the urge to relieve himself.

“You know, I think I could control more than just this arm of yours,” Jack said, tone low. “Bet I could get all up in your neurons and make you feel _really_ good. Or, I could make you piss in your pants right in front of your bandit friends some time. Should I find out, pumpkin?” Jack's smirk grew wider as Rhys kept stroking himself, opting to revel in whatever fucked up dirty stuff Jack was whispering into his ear.

All of a sudden, the ache in his bladder grew until he couldn't stop himself from rushing out with, “P-Please, fuck - I'm gonna... I can't – ahhh...” His words trailed off into a satisfied string of noises as he felt relief wash over him. The warm, wet liquid pooled against his leg as the sound of piss splattering against the mattress hit his ears. It came out in spurts as he touched himself, the sensations mixing together into a weird form of bliss.

“Look at the mess you're making,” Jack said, mock disappointment in his tone. Then, he leaned in close to Rhys' neck. “Just couldn't fight the urge, could you? Pathetic.”

The stream came to an end. Rhys' eyes rolled to the back of his head as he pumped harder on his cock, before slowing down, orgasm crashing upon him. He moved his hand slowly, moaning as dopamine ebbed through his body like electricity. When it ended, he went limp, dropping to the mattress like a weight. He panted, eyes glazed over as he lay in his puddle of piss.

“I wonder what your friends would say if they knew I was in your head – and could make you like this,” Jack snickered, crossing his arms. “You know – of all the heads I could've been shoved into, I'm glad it was yours. 'Cos you're real fucked up, kiddo.”


End file.
